


Binding Dreams

by KarieChaos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarieChaos/pseuds/KarieChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up and is in Sam's (maybe) merciful hands now. Or did he really wake up at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binding Dreams

Binding Dreams  
By: Karie Chaos

Disclaimer:  
I don't own any of it. I can only borrow the ideas and write fun smutty things for it. Sam/Dean slash, so if that's not your thing, please just move along. If it is, read on my friend!

 

~*~

 

Dean woke up with a jerk, mostly because he'd found he couldn't move his arms. He immediately craned his neck, tilting his head back to look and found his hands cuffed together and then fastened to the bar behind his back. He could tell it was a bar, mostly because he could feel the smooth, cold metal against his bare skin.

Why was he shirtless anyway?

He shifted uncomfortably, and then he snapped his head down fast enough to pop his neck in a very painful way, looking at his lap with rounded eyes.

Why didn't he have any pants on!?

He jerked a little, looking around in the dark frantically, shifting to get his legs under him. He could hear the scrape of rope against the round bar he was tethered to, but he couldn't see anything except the dark and the cold concrete he had been sitting on. All he was wearing was the handcuffs and a pair of black leather chaps, which left absolutely none of his more necessary parts to the imagination.

This was not cool, man.

“Sam?”

The sound of his voice echoed back at him, but he shifted his feet slowly, the floor cold against his bare feet as he circled the metal behind his spine.

“Sammy, you there? Hello? Anybody? Hey Culligan man?”

He tried levity, but he was starting to freak out a little. He didn't know where he was, or how the hell he'd gotten here, but here he definitely was. Naked. Mostly. He finally took a shuddering breath and tried finding the knot of the ropes, but the way his hands were bound, he couldn't angle them up to the rope much, except to tell that he was very securely fastened. Then he heard the scuff of shoes on the concrete floor and he tensed, although he had no weapons to defend himself with.

“Sam?”

“I'm right here, Dean.”

“Thank god, hey, come untie me.”

There was a low chuckle and then Sam came into view wearing just his jeans and shoes, shirtless and looking amused and somewhat admiring.

“Why would I do that? Do you know how hard it was to get you tied down without waking you up? You sleep like a freaking moth, man.”

“Look, this isn't funny. Fucking untie me!”

Sam just shook his head, dark hair fanning slightly at the tips as he advanced, reaching out to wrap a firm hand around the back of Dean's neck, angling his face up and making him hold still.

“No. Dean. This is my turn. You got yours. Now stop complaining and go with it.”

“Go with-”

Dean started to complain anyhow, but it was cut off by his brother's mouth, hot and firm against his own and all he could do was surrender too it. Okay... Sure, he might have been... A tiny bit demanding, lately? Maybe? But for fucks sake, did Sam have to get all fancy with the rope-work? He strained against the cuffs, wanting his hands on his brother, but then he recalled, blurrily, that Sam said this was his 'turn'. Okay. So Sam wanted the reins. Dean could do that. He wasn't a control freak, after all.

Well.

Not entirely.

Almost.

He lost his train of thought when Sam's other hand cupped his face, tilting his head further back as he took the kiss deeper, tongue sweeping through Dean's mouth with determination, tasting, touching, controlling. Dean kind of liked it, he felt a moan build in his throat and he clamped it down. He might be tied up, but he was no one's bitch, not even Sam's. He sure wasn't going to moan like one. The heat of his brother's mouth was melting his brain, though, driving rational thought away as Sam didn't let him draw back and oxygen became a precious commodity. He was starting to see stars when Sam finally let him go, sending him sagging against the cold metal behind him, panting for air as he blinked spots from his vision.

The taller man was smiling, almost a smirk, and he delicately and purposely dragged his thumb across his glistening bottom lip, then popped it into his mouth, releasing it after a moment with a throaty noise.

“You always taste so good, even though you live on a steady diet of burgers, coffee and booze. Never ceases to amaze me.”

“Its called toothpaste.”

Dean panted finally, and stared at Sam, his hair, usually ruffled upwards to keep it out of his eyes was drooping down into said green gaze, and he tossed his head, flipping the loose strands to the side a little so they weren't bothering him. Sam just grinned at him and then came in closer, reaching out to dig his hands into Dean's short hair and pull his head back again. He leaned down and Dean was disturbed to find his mouth opening, expecting another breath-stealing kiss, but Sam ducked past him and then he yelled, feeling the sharp bite of blunt teeth against his pulse

“Shit!”

“Stop crying, it's barely a bruise.”

Dean scowled at the dark, his head still held back as Sam laved the mark with his tongue. Then he felt him move on to other marks, each sting of teeth in his skin making him jump and grunt before the pain was soothed away. Sam seemed determined to leave him covered in marks of his possession. Dean couldn't really complain too much, he'd left his share of marks on Sam: teeth, blunt nails, the slight reddening of hot wax, rope burns, the small nicks from various handcuffs, bruises from a too tight grip. But now he was getting treated to it himself, and he felt... Aroused and annoyed. It was annoying to be held down, like something Sam owned. But the fact that he wanted to leave his mark in his skin, warning off other comers was also arousing, to be so wanted. So he found himself arching into it when Sam's teeth sank into the thick muscle of his chest, right in the centre of the warding tattoo on his skin. That was a sensitive place to be bitten, and he groaned at the feel before Sam's green eyes were gleaming at him.

“Time to change places.”

He found himself pinned to the metal as Sam's body crowded into his, reaching around as Sam easily leaned over his shoulder to watch his hands.

“You could have just let me move around...”

“No way. I want you right where you are. You can't run away like a girl.”

Dean scoffed at the idea, but the fact that his ass was hanging out for the potential world to see did make him want to go find something to cover with. Then he was pulled away from the metal, his hands still cuffed behind him. He blinked as Sam took his arm and pulled him into the surrounding dark.

“Where-”

“Stop being such a wuss, Dean. It's not like I'm going to torture you. Well, not in any way you won't like. I told you. You had your turn, now it's mine. You think I don't have things I'd like to do to you?”

Sam's green eyes were just a dark shine in the shadows. Dean still didn't know where he was.

“How many times have you admired yourself in the mirror, and you still don't get that you're sex on legs? Or you know it, and you just assume I don't want to play with it. So I took it upon myself. I'm going to play with you, Dean. You can get me back later.”

Dean swallowed hard. Well. That certainly told him everything he needed to know, didn't it? Damn, what had pushed his usually even-tempered little brother over the edge? Yeah, they were both a lot twisted, being that they were brothers and sleeping together in the first place. You had to be a little fucked up for that in the first place. And then there was the bondage, the handcuffs, the toys, the knives, the power-plays... 

To say that their relationship was complicated was a very large understatement.

Dean found himself pulled into another lit space, where a bed was crammed into what looked like it was meant to be a storage closet. He wasn't even sure how Sam got that thing in here. He found himself tripped and pushed face first onto it, his bare ass framed in black leather left up in the air. He struggled a little, using his body to lift himself up and try to turn, but then he felt the rush of air and something firm slapping his skin. It shocked a moan out of him, making him topple forward again, his face turned away from the bed because, well, breathing was something he enjoyed.

“Sam?”

There was another low laugh and he briefly wondered if Sam was possessed again before whatever it was hit his skin again, making him moan and jerk away. He felt heat beginning to build under his skin, as whatever Sam was using to spank him met his ass again and again, always in a different spot, warming his flesh even as the cool air in the building washed over him, making him shudder against the bed under him. He was amazed to notice in one of the pauses between strikes that he was hard, his cock bouncing between his abdomen and the bed. Another strike made him moan louder and this time he arched his back, lifting his ass up into the pain. 

Whatever it was that he did, the next strike was different, it was cold! He yelped and squirmed, though all that did was wave his butt around a little in the air.

“What the hell?!”

All he heard in response was Sam's laugh, delighted and a little bit mischievous as the cold hit him again, making him jerk and moan, torn between trying to rub himself against the bed beneath for some relief, and the thought that if he even tried, Sam would find some way of making it impossible. The cold object swatted him a few more times before Sam got bored and a hand that was probably just normal body temperature touched his ass. He hissed, between the sting in his skin and the cold from whatever Sam had been using, it felt like his brother's hand was on fire against him. But he rocked into the touch as Sam stroked and massaged his backside, even if he occasionally dipped a finger low enough to rub across Dean's opening, taunting him. After all, Dean only bottomed for Sam occasionally, and it was never really a giving up of control. Sam was usually tied down or in some other way incapacitated and unable to do anything about it.

This was entirely different. This was Sam in control, playing the threads of his brother's body like a harp. Dean moaned when Sam's fingers lingered, pressing a little, but not really entering. He was fairly sure his brother wouldn't without some sort of slippery help, but honestly? Right now he wasn't going to put a lot of stock in what he was 'sure' Sam would do.

“You're thinking really hard Dean, I can practically hear your brain working.”

“Shut up, I think all the time!”

Sam laughed and that hand lifted to run down his back, soothing and arousing at the same time. Dean felt shivers break out across his skin, and Sam's hand came back up to the back of his neck to repeat the gesture, almost kind. Almost loving. Then he drew blunt nails down the length of Dean's spine and he moaned, shuddering into the touch as he felt the sharp spike of pain. Then Sam's mouth was on him, slick tongue making a trail over the marks left behind. He made a noise he refused to call a whimper as Sam's mouth moved over the small of his back and then hot and sharp over the over-sensitized skin of his ass and lower. He heard fabric scrape the concrete and then he moaned like a whore.

“SA-AM~”

He could feel his brother's tongue just there, sliding over and against the tightly closed spot, but he knew what he was doing. He'd done it to Sam more than a few times. Sam probed and licked and worked his tongue in, opening him up without pause, the puff of his breath against usually untouched skin almost too much. Dean knew he was already in danger of coming without ever being fucked. Sam didn't seem to care, he held Dean's thighs, shifting him into a wider stance as he worked him with his mouth. Dean was currently past caring who or what heard him, or what he sounded like as he moaned and called Sam's name like a prayer.

Sam ignored his prayer (and wasn't that just like God, anyway?), working his tongue in as far as it would go, Dean could feel it, warm and moving inside him before he felt Sam work a fingertip in with it, pressing down on the edge and opening him wider as he worked his mouth closer to his body. Dean felt his tongue withdraw slightly and then he felt it when Sam curled it up and licked and he couldn't hold it in. He came hard, yelling Sam's name into the bed, making a mess of it, and himself. Sam withdrew his tongue, though the finger remained as Dean's body clamped down, but he didn't seem like he was done.

When the sparks of orgasm had passed and Dean was shuddering and nearly falling to his knees if not for Sam's hand and the brace of his other hand holding him up, Sam's voice, thick and hungry, echoed from behind him.

“Feel better?”

“Nnngh?”

Dean couldn't put words together and he tried to look back, but he couldn't. He sagged against the bed, and then he whined. That was the only word for the noise that he made as Sam's finger moved inside him, opening him back up too soon. He could feel Sam grinning against his hip as he shifted his finger, stroking sensitive inner walls too soon after Dean had came. Dean tried to shy away, but Sam wasn't having it and a second finger came in, making him groan and squirm. Then he felt the cool blunt tip of something that was definitely not Sam pressing in against the fingers that hooked down, gently forcing him open.

The object was well lubed, but he could feel it working its slow, steady way in, each little push stretching him wider and wider, until he was pretty sure it was wider than any human could possibly be expected to go. And it kept going. He moaned and writhed against the bed, his body not ready, but it was already getting hot again, he could feel himself twitching back to life, however reluctantly. Finally he felt the thing loose size, and he was stuffed full, more than full, of what ever it was. In the back of his brain he knew somewhere Sam had put a plug in, but he couldn't think yet. Dean could only focus on how tight the fit was, how full it made him feel and how not ready for this he was, even as his body fought to come back to life.

Then there was a rustle behind him and the clink of a belt buckle before Sam was there, helping him further onto the bed. But he shifted him around, turning him onto his back, and urging his feet onto the floor when he wanted to bring his heels onto the edge of the bed, wanted to relieve some of the pressure inside him. Sam's face was flushed along the sharp cheekbones, his green eyes dark, but not demonically so, just aroused. He was breathing hard, skin sheened with sweat, even though Dean was the one being tortured.

Well.

Erotically tortured, but it was still torture.

Sort of.

“You can take it.”

He growled at the soothing words, baring his teeth at his brother even though he couldn't get him to let his legs up. Then Sam leaned down and licked at him, swiping up a thick wet smear with his tongue. Dean winced away even as he moaned and Sam rose over him, leaning up on one hand before he came down and kissed him. He hadn't swallowed yet, Dean realized immediately, and he found himself sharing a thick, sticky kiss with his brother, swallowing what was shared with him. He wasn't disgusted by the taste, it wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but he hadn't ever had quite so much of it in his mouth at one time. But Sam drew away and grinned at him, his hair clinging to his face and neck before those wide hands came up and pushed it back.

“I can move your hands if your arms hurt. But I'm not done yet.”

Dean shifted and then he nodded.

“Y- yeah. My shoulders...”

Sam urged him partly upright and unfastened the cuffs from his wrists. He eased Dean's arms out to the sides, but when Dean started to curl them in to loosen the tightness he found himself pinned, and Sam gave him a look before he reached over the side of the bed and drew up another cuff. He had it closed around Dean's wrist quickly, holding his arm out to the side, and Dean was still staring at it when he felt and heard the other side click closed and he was pinned to the rails under the bed. Sam sat up, a small blade in his hand, a thin knife with a short blade, one Dean recognised. He'd used it on Sam a few times, they didn't have a problem with it. They both knew they would never really hurt one another. But the sight of it made Dean's breath catch before his lungs began working harder, air moving faster through his lips.

“Not done with you yet, Dean.”

He swallowed, his mouth dry as Sam shifted and drew the edge of the blade gently along the highest point of his hip bone, leaving a shallow slice behind that bled freely down into the hollow of his hip in thin trails. Sam didn't immediately do anything but watch, until a tiny, shallow puddle formed there and then he leaned down, lapping it up and following the path up to the thin slice, the hand with the blade held carefully away from them. Dean moaned at the sting of his brother's tongue prodding the cut, encouraging it to bleed. Then Sam was kissing him again, and it was slippery and tasted of thick copper, but Dean kissed him back, pulling futilely at his arms. He wanted to touch, but he was denied by the rattle of metal. 

Sam pulled back and then turned the blade slightly so that the sharp edge rested against Dean's bottom lip, not cutting yet, and then he leaned down and kissed him, both their mouths pressed against the blade before he slid it carefully sideways, both of them bleeding into the desperate kiss. Then Sam pulled away, the blade tumbling off the side of the blade with a quickly forgotten clatter as Sam reached down, wrapping his hand around Dean's already sticky erection, giving it a couple of firm strokes. Each one made his body twitch, reminding him of the thick object inside him still.

Dean couldn't stand it, and he arched into the touch, his body protesting, but he would never tell Sam no, not really. And right now he didn't think he was capable of saying boo, let alone protesting as Sam rubbed him, working him to a fever pitch again. Dean's body just couldn't take it and he came a second time, much more quickly, his own green eyes blind to everything around him as he yelled and twisted against the bed.

When he could see again, Sam was licking his hand clean, but he wasn't quite done. He reached down and unfastened Dean's wrists. Dean pulled his arms in, massaging his reddened wrists, sure he was going to be bruised in some strange ways. He could feel his lip still bleeding, and his hip was too, but he didn't care too much, they were barely wounds at all. He'd had worse. He didn't sit up, though, but Sam didn't let him rest long. He was pulled to his feet, the change of position making him whimper again, changing how the plug inside him pressed against his tender inner tissues. Sam smiled, almost gently, and Dean sagged against him as his brother looped an arm around him, making him take a step. It shifted again and he moaned, his body unwilling to go again, even though it was being stimulated a third time. Sam just pressed a bloody kiss to his temple and urged him forward again.

Dean shuddered and stumbled across the floor, through the dark until they entered a puddle of light. He finally, vaguely, wondered where the light source was and why, when he was in the dark, he couldn't see it approaching in the first place. Then he was pushed against a padded bar and he grunted with surprise, half-blind from sensation so he hadn't seen it coming. Then padded restraints were clamped around his forearms, not his wrists, and he was left leaning over the bar, arms stretched out before him. He could just see under the thing, and what he could see were his legs, still in the chaps, now stained and sticky with come, and his cock, trying to come up a third time. It hurt to be this aroused a third time and he wasn't sure he was going to make it.

Sam was naked now, he could see his brother's muscled legs behind him, and then he crouched down into view, even more flushed than before, his lip bleeding sluggishly and something in his hands...

Dean moaned a protest that was ignored as Sam fastened a nylon strap around one of Dean's ankles and then stretched his leg almost uncomfortably out to the side, pushing a long black bar into place before he wrapped the nylon strap on the other end around Dean's other ankle. A spreader. He couldn't close his legs now, couldn't really move at all, held up high on his toes by the bar at his waist, his hands stretched out and fastened to what he could see was a ring on the wall, and a bar holding him open.

Sam's smile was gentle, and he ran his hands over Dean's thighs, but Dean didn't feel comforted. He couldn't remember ever doing this to Sam, but it shot arousal through him none-the-less, to be held this helpless, dependant on Sam for once, to know what to do. He hadn't thought being helpless at Sam's hands could be hot, but it was. Then Sam looked up from where he was crouched, and his hands came up, resting on Dean's ass. He felt movement and then the plug inside him was being inched out and he groaned, his head sagging as his eyes rolled back in his head.

It was smooth and black, and he watched, eyes going wide as he saw the size of the thing that had been inside him. He hadn't thought he could take anything that big, but apparently with the right motivation he could. Then Sam tossed it aside and three fingers were inside him, but he hadn't felt any pain, he had been thoroughly stretched and loosened by the plug. He moaned though, as they stroked over the inside of him and then Sam stood, his face out of sight again. He was stuck there, shuddering in the quiet as the slap of Sam's feet on the floor was the only indication of movement.

He heard a rustle of plastic and then the sharp snap of a cap and then cool relief was inside him, the squirm of fingers with it making him moan and rock in his bonds. Then Sam was behind him, pressing into his soft, stretched opening and lingering before he rocked back. Dean could feel that, he wasn't so loose from the thing that he couldn't feel Sam, but there was no burn, no feeling of being taken too far, because Sam had already gotten that over with.

Dean moaned and squirmed under his brother, until Same came with a sudden thrust that drove him into Dean's sweet spot, and he surprised himself by having a third orgasm, even if he was empty and had nothing much to show for it. It still sparked through his brain until he couldn't see straight-

~*~

Dean shot upright in bed, eyes frantically sweeping the room. There was a sleepy protest beside him at the draft and he felt the other body squirm closer. He looked down at Sam, curled up beside him, his long body spooned up to where Dean had left a warm spot. He was naked under the blankets, as was Sam, but his part of the blanket was decidedly sticky...

He sighed with relief and shifted out of bed, rounding it to get Sam up and moving them to the other bed before tucking his brother in. He went to the bathroom, only one relieved thought in his head as he cleaned up so he could go back to sleep.

He wasn't wearing any fucking chaps.

He never saw Sam's eyes open and watch him walk away, a smile curling his lips before they closed again and he tucked an arm under his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know, it seems a little non-con, but really its not. I wrote this for a friend who wanted to see Dean in chaps. So, it turned into this and I don't know how. Please please please leave me some feedback if you liked it! I really like to know because it makes me happy to write for people!


End file.
